


To Give the Gift of the Desert

by LizaGreen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Anakin Skywalker is Trying, Anakin Skywalker is the Chosen One, But what does this mean?, CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano Friendship, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker Friendship, CT-7567 | Rex is So Done, Cultural Differences, Cultural Repression, Culture Shock, Hurt Anakin Skywalker, Hutts (Star Wars), Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mace Windu Being a Jerk, OC's - Freeform, Obi-Wan Kenobi Being a Jerk, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is Trying, Obi-Wan Kenobi is so Done, Protective Anakin Skywalker, References to the Jedi Council (Star Wars), Repression, Slavery, Tatooine Slave Culture (Star Wars), Unintentionally, culture clash, everyone is trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28091901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaGreen/pseuds/LizaGreen
Summary: When Anakin Skywalker enters Jabba's Palace he meets a young slave by the name of Neira who asks a favour of him. This changes things.Obi Wan learns he may have been incredibly culturally insensitive to his padawan for years.Ahsoka is just trying to learn how to be a Padawan and most certainly did not expect this.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 44
Kudos: 867
Collections: Favorites/ Recommendations





	To Give the Gift of the Desert

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for those it may involve: implied/referenced rape/non-con of a minor and adults, graphic depictions of violence and poor standards of living, cultural insensitivity towards certain characters. I try not to explicit, but if you will find any of this triggering, please be warned.
> 
> This is set at the end of the Clone Wars film because I find it weird that Anakin walked into a den of slavery and somehow didn't interact with any of them.
> 
> This work was heavily inspired by Fiallerial's Double Agent Vader fics and I have incorporated some ideas from their version of Tatooine Slave Culture. I have also added some of my own.

There was a tale told among the slaves of Tatooine. One of unbearable tragedy, a song born of the dust and sand and blood of the Goddess, Mortea, and her children. It was common to tell it, over and over, whispered in the dead of night where the Masters could not hear, to children old enough to understand. 

Neira was four when the tale was told to her. 

Her mother was long gone, a shadow figure of her dreams. Instead, it had been Villes, bright wonderful Villes, who told her the story, holding her close in her blankets, because Neira was too young to be useful to have earned such a right. 

It was always told in the Dark. 

Neira had always felt safest in the Dark. The Dark was where no Depur could reach her, where she was protected, where she was not beholden to dance or offer services to her Master’s clients. The Dark was her own space and time. It hid her japur snippets, her drawings, her personal items stolen from Depur. It was the Light which scared her. 

The man before her could not personify it more. All white robes, white armour, a shining light in the Aether that only she and Villes could feel. He called himself Obi-Wan Kenobi and he was here to negotiate with Jabba for... something. Perhaps it had to do with Rotta and his absence. Neira preferred it this way- less attention was paid to her and the others. 

Babushka was frail and ailing, soon to be butchered in the sands or sent to feed the sarlaac. Neira and the others were doing their best to keep her well enough, to stop Villes from becoming the next Babushka. The togruta woman had other skills than just dancing, which had preserved her life when she turned fourty and clients pretended her beauty was starting to fade. They preferred the younger dancers. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi barely paid her mind, didn’t even glance her way. She reached out for him, stung by the Light pouring off him and was blatantly ignored. That was fine- he was a Core-worlder, probably didn’t know what she was asking. But he was also a _Jedi_. Babushka said the Jedi were knights of Leia, of Justice. Neira had thought he had come to free them for a moment. 

The thought died as she saw him proper, in the Light. As he left and another took his place. This man reeked of Dark, but not the safe Dark. The Dark which Depur kept about him, the Dark that his clients loved to live in and drag her to when they wanted _favours_. She shrank back, even if that was into Jabba. She preferred the slug to _this_ man. 

The third man took her breath away. 

He was Light, but he knew how to use the Dark too. He was fierce and bright and, most of all, _Ekkretha_. Neira couldn’t believe it. The name ‘Skywalker’ was rare, even among the slaves, only those of Ekkreth’s line able to claim it. Mortea’s only surviving child, to walk upon the earth and travel the stars. She was not the only one to gravitate towards him, even as he threatened Jabba. 

Jabba seemed to realise the man’s influence, the way he drew the slaves to him without trying. How he protected them in the Aether, in that place between places only a few could feel. How he knew when to offer mercy and when to offer Mortea’s Gift himself. 

Rotta’s appearance in the arms of the girl was all that saved them from punishment. It distracted Jabba enough to forget all about it. But Ekkretha was leaving and... 

No one else would do it. Jabba had beaten out all free will from them, beaten them to the quick. Neira was strong though, strong like Villes taught her to be. It was what drew them together and what pushed her forwards now, to gently tap Ekkretha on the arm as he turned to leave. He froze at the touch, turning to see her. 

“Ekkretha,” she whispered, loud enough for only the two of them to hear. She dared not use more Amatakka, for fear of Depur hearing. “Please. Babushka... she needs the Gift.” Her eyes were drawn to the saber clipped to his belt, praying to Lukka and Leia and Mortea all that he understood. The togruta girl by his side was giving her a quizzical look. 

Ekkretha was still for a long moment. 

“Where?” he asked, using Basic just the same as she. The girl frowned. 

“Ma-” 

“Not here.” The order was hissed and sharp and clearly startling enough to shut the girl up. Neira froze, worried she had made the wrong choice, that Ekkretha had been twisted into something else, into- “She means _pashar*_. The Jedi have only the one word for it.” Neira swallowed. 

“The Quarters,” she said in answer to his previous question. She could not show him now- he should know that. He nodded to her, taking the girl by the arm, leaving. 

She knew he would be back. 

Neira was on edge the rest of the day, feeling Ekkretha on the fringes of her concentration, floating around the sides of the Palace. It was a slow day and that was a good thing- with the war going on there were fewer customers, especially when the Jedi or Separatist leaders dropped by. They didn’t like either side and with Jabba now involved, it ought to stay this way. She liked that. 

She was dismissed only a few hours later, an excess of flesh in a room with only four or five bounty hunters to satisfy. She was unneeded and told to leave sight. She gladly went, running once out of sight of Depur. 

Ekkretha was arguing with the man in white when she reached him. Jabba liked to dress her in blue, bare wisps to cover modesty on a teenager. His clients liked to see the produce. Neira had no dignity left to care, her worry only on Babushka. Jabba could have done away with her himself by now and Babushka was too frail to take herself into the Desert to rest herself. 

“Ekkretha?” Only the one known as Obi-Wan Kenobi and the togruta girl jumped. Ekkretha turned, even as the man in white frowned. 

“Anakin? What is this about? You can’t just-” 

“Which hut?” He-Who-Brings-The Rains ignored his companion entirely. Neira wasn’t young enough to point. She beckoned him to follow. 

The Aether trembled with something; she didn’t know what. The Jedi looked alarmed, the girl swaying. 

“Something changed,” she said out loud, eyes wide in awe. She was giving Neira a more considering look. The Jedi gave her a suspicious glance. Neira ignored him. 

She took off without another word. Anakin followed, his tread light but loud enough to show purpose. The other two followed in his wake, alarmed and curious. They didn’t know what they were going to see. 

They stumbled at the sight of the Quarters. Outsiders called them the Slave Quarters, thought that they were modest homesteads like those seen in Mos Espa. Jabba was always amused by the notion- after all, he owned the majority of the slaves on Tatooine and treated them much the same as cattle. He had little need to offer them _comfort_. No doubt, the other two had never seen this side of the planet, perhaps even this side of society. The unwanted, unwashed slaves used for agriculture, the ones bleeding and injured who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut, the ones with weeping sores and shivering with sickness from malnourishment. 

And each building crammed with as many people as possible, the conditions just as dire. Neira was long used to the smell, but the poor togruta girl gagged and the Jedi wrinkled his nose. Anakin followed her without a reaction to any of it. 

They both knew of it. 

The suns were setting, the Gift could not be given yet. But if Anakin were there, Jabba would not dare take Babushka for fear of upsetting his new allies. And the Republic would not like it should the Jedi reported such blatant flaunting of the rules. The Aether shivered with the sadness of the people around them, the children gathering close to Babushka in her final hours. 

Neira drew back the curtain of Babushka’s dwelling, ushering them inside. Babushka was in the centre of the room as always, Villes beside her. She was watching the door with wary eyes, watching as Anakin stepped into the room. Annushka, who had been in the Throne Room with Neira when Anakin entered, leaned over the whisper to her, to tell her who had arrived. 

Babushka raised her sightless eyes to fix upon the newcomers. 

“He Who Bring the Rains,” she whispered, her voice scratchy. “You have returned to us.” Anakin swallowed, crouching before her. 

“I have returned to give a Gift, Babushka.” They were not the traditional words, but Babushka smiled anyway. She cupped his face, tracing his features with thin, shaking hands. 

“You are most generous, to offer such a thing to me,” she said. No one was old enough to remember what Babushka’s name had been before she became Babushka. It was her name now. Anakin asked anyway. 

“I would know your name, Babushka. So you may greet Lukka and Leia in the morning.” Babushka smiled, eyes teary. 

“It would be good to hear it again. I have been Babushka for so long...” She stroked a lock of dark blonde hair away from his face. “You have your mother’s strength.” Neira, and some of the younger ones, took in a sharp breath. They had not known that Babushka _knew_ Anakin and his mother. Perhaps she was now Babushka of her own clan somewhere. Or perhaps she was with Lukka and Leia. 

“Tell her, when you see her,” Anakin said. _So, she has gone to join our ancestors with_ _Lukka_ _and Leia,_ Neira thought sadly. The togruta girl was lost. 

“I shall. I shall tell her Iside Windchaser was shown great mercy by Anakin Skywalker.” Anakin shuddered, offering her his own small smiled. 

“She would like that.” The girl glanced at Obi-Wan Kenobi. She still didn’t know her name. 

Annushka had retreated to the window and glanced over now. 

“Lukka and Leia have set,” she said with finality. “Shall I call the little ones, Babushka?” Babushka shook her head. 

“No, I have said my goodbyes. I am ready, Anakin, He Who Brings the Rains, line of Ekkreth-the-Sky-Walker, to receive Mortea’s last Gift.” Anakin nodded, drawing his sabre. No one had lit any candles- it was to be done in the Dark. 

He took her gently into his arms, holding her close like a child. Neira held her breath, hands clutched to her face. She was the youngest now to have witnessed a Gift- she was not old enough to give it. Villes drew back. 

The Jedi seemed to realise what was happening the moment it would be too late. 

“I give you the Gift of the Desert,” Anakin of the line of Ekkreth whispered, blue igniting and filling the room, the colour of rain and water and life. Babshuka gave a sigh of relief, her gasp almost one of delight. 

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan surged forwards alarmed and horrified. Villes stopped him, placing herself between the startled young man and the Jedi. 

“No,” she snapped. “You interfere in what you don’t understand.” 

“You... killed her,” the togruta girl whispered, tears in her eyes. “She _asked_ you to kill her!” She turned accusing blue eyes on Neira. Neira glared right back, her face lit up by the blue of the saber. Anakin laid Babushka down to rest, gently and with dignity. She had died with a smile on her face, her eyes closed. 

“Jabba would have done worse,” Anakin said slowly, rising. “He is not kind to those who are no longer useful.” He gave Neira a glance. “You were strong and clever to have kept her with you.” Neira blushed at the compliment. 

“I told Jabba she would keep the little ones entertained and out of the way.” It had been a place marker truly, no one had wanted to give Babushka the Gift while she could still live. But she had grown weaker this week, and soon they would have been forced to. That someone of her past could do so, must have been of great pleasure to Babushka. _To Iside_ _Windchaser_ she thought firmly. 

The Jedi were still staring, wide eyed, at Anakin. 

“What?” he asked faintly. “That was... Anakin, it wasn’t... you shouldn’t... this was... planned?” 

“Not for He Who Brings the Rains,” Villes broke in. _Babushka now,_ Neira thought sadly. “But Iside had been fading. She would not have wanted to feed the sarlaac if they didn’t just dismember her here. Jabba has been talking about it for days.” Villes was the only one with medical knowledge, the only one who was allowed to treat the slug for the sores and other various diseases he and his hunters had. She heard all of the good news- because no one cared what _property_ heard. “She was glad to see him, at the end.” 

Annushka leant down and kissed Iside’s forehead. “We shall bury her with Eira,” she murmured. She stood and handed Villes her tools, new sets for Babushka. She would be the one to trace the signs into their skin now. She offered them to Anakin. He blinked. 

“I’m... free.” Neira frowned, eyes narrowed. 

“There shouldn’t be a pause,” she said stubbornly. Anakin glanced back and a sharp feeling shot through the Aether. Almost like a poke, screaming _shut up, not now_. Villes gave a slow blink. 

“Have you forgotten your roots?” The room stilled. Anakin froze. Then he straightened, a determined figure. 

“No.” He shucked the outer tabard, then the tunic and undertunic. Neira wasn’t sure how he could wear so many layers. Beneath even the undertunic, was a shirt, which he wrenched off too. The girl made a squeaking sound. Neira wasn’t sure why- Anakin was handsome, sure, but he bore his scars well and would have worn them proudly no doubt if the uniform he was wearing wasn’t so _thick_. He knelt for Villes. 

Obi-Wan went to protest again, but the girl stopped him this time. 

“Ma-” she cut herself off, seemingly wondering what to say. She gave Neira a nervous glance as Villes prepped her tools, the blue dye prepared by Annushka. Neira offered her a smile. 

“We say ‘Teacher’,” she said. “Only Depur is Master here.” The girl clearly didn’t know what she meant but nodded her thanks. Obi-Wan gave them a confused look. Villes started at the shoulder, the sign for freedom first that he ought to have had the whole time, then the sign of Mortea and her first Gift. For each Gift given, there was a new sign, to mark the passage. She did it on the left arm, the one closest to the heart and the one which did not have a prosthetic. No one blinked at that. Anakin did not cry out, didn’t even flinch. 

Obi-Wan seemed torn between staring and confusion. 

“Teacher, I think we shouldn’t interfere,” the girl continued. The room sagged in some relief that the word was avoided. “You said that Teacher Anakin came from this planet...” 

“Well, yes, but...” 

“The Temple taught us to respect all cultures and ways of life,” the girl continued, before her Teacher could continue. “We should be honoured to witness it, right?” _She catches on fast_ , Neira thought, impressed. Very few outsiders were welcome or allowed when a Gift was offered. They just didn’t understand. 

Neira nodded her assent to the girl, respect from one survivor to another. She had, after all, been involved in the fighting, even if it _was_ for Depur. 

“I’ll be outside,” Obi-Wan said flatly, blunt and bleeding hurt into the Aether. Neira watched him go with narrow eyes. 

“He should not have seen,” she said out loud to the group at large. “He is a Core-Worlder. What does he understand-” 

“Neira,” Babushka said firmly, placing her tools down and away, carefully wrapping Anakin’s new tattoos. “It was not for us to decide.” Neira closed her mouth, pouting. True, it was for the one who gave the Gift and the receiver to decide who saw- neither Anakin nor Iside spoke up to remove the pair. The girl didn’t seem to understand either, but she at least was _trying_. Obi-Wan, staunch in the Light, was horrified. 

It wasn’t right, to be disgusted by a Gift of the Desert. 

“Thank you, Neira,” Anakin said as he rose. He pulled only the shirt back on, gathering up his layers of tabards and tunics. “I’ll explain your bravery to him.” He gave her face a gentle caress. “I swear, I will come back for you.” There was tragedy in his voice, tears he hid from the world. She reached up to hold his hand, the flesh one that held her face, feeling her own tears. 

“ _You promise?”_ she whispered. He nodded. 

“ _By Lukka and Leia, you shall see freedom, I swear it.”_ The girl twitched at the change in languages but said nothing. “Ahsoka,” he said, returning to basic. “It’s time to go.” 

“In the dark?” the girl- Ahsoka, it seemed- startled, staring with wide eyes. “But, how will we get back to the ship in the pitch black? Even I can’t see that far ahead-” 

“The Desert will show us the way,” Anakin said firmly. “Trust me.” She closed her mouth again, bowing her head. 

Neira watched from the doorway as they disappeared into the desert and wondered if they would ever return. 

* * *

Anakin couldn’t get little Neira’s face out of his head. She was small for a thirteen-year-old, of an age with Ahsoka, but so strong like her too. The two girls came from such different backgrounds but were the same in so many different ways. It made him want to take Ahsoka immediately, jump ship from the Jedi Order, return to Tatooine and free everyone, from the new-born slaves to the oldest Babushkas of the Clans. It filled his heart with rage that, even now, the galaxy turned a blind eye to them. 

It was why he hated Tatooine so much. 

Obi Wan gave him the cold shoulder the entire way back to their transport. Anakin almost turned away, almost steered them to a small farmstead not so far from here, to a grave and a woman who would understand his actions tonight. Beru had handed him a small snippet of her own, folded it into his hands as he was leaving, blue eyes filled with tears. _For your remembrance cord,_ she had said. _And to remind you that we are not_ _qashik**_ _._ Anakin hid the cord in his prosthetic, unlikely to be damaged there. 

Ahsoka fell asleep against his shoulder, having claimed the passenger seat. Obi-Wan was sat in the back, shields up. His new padawan stirred as the suns started to rise, the ship visible now in the distance. She blinked blearily around, her feeling in the Force sad. 

“That girl...” she started, quiet, “Neira. I’ve just realised. She was Force-Sensitive.” Obi Wan twitched in the back. Anakin nodded. 

“It’s not as uncommon as you think,” he said, fingers tight on the controls of the speeder. His shoulder burned with the new symbols, ones he ought to have had when freed and ones that he earnt that night. Lukka and Leia peeped over the dunes, playful where their mother was cold. “They call it the Aether. The place between places.” Ahsoka blinked, nodding. She paused a moment. Anakin could feel her next question in the air, even before she opened her mouth. 

“You were one of them once.” It wasn’t even a question. Anakin didn’t remember Iside Windchaser- he had been six when Gardulla bankrupted herself out of her slaves. 

“I was born in the Quarters of Gardulla the Hutt,” he admitted. “I was found at the age of nine.” He didn’t explain the rest, about the Boonta Eve Classic, the podrace, Watto, any of it. The less he talked, the better. 

“Oh.” Ahsoka fell quiet. He could feel Obi Wan frowning behind him. 

“You weren’t with the Hutts when you were found.” Anakin almost crashed the speeder at the probing question. He grit his teeth against the words burning on his tongue. 

“We were sold on. She lost her slaves in a bet,” he explained tightly. He didn’t wish to remember the day he and his mother had almost been separated. They were lucky- Watto had seen a pretty face to woo customers and a tiny worker to get in spaces he didn’t wish to go. Others were not so. At least Watto gave them better Quarters. 

Obi Wan had enough sense to ask no more. 

Rex and the men were waiting when they returned. They seemed surprised at his lack of clothing- Anakin wasn’t stupid enough to mess with Villes’ work and disturb the still healing tattoos. Tomorrow, he would dress as a proper Jedi again. Today, he couldn’t quite stomach it. They watched as Ahsoka trailed after him, slumped in exhaustion, almost staggering. Anakin paused to offer her a piggyback. The girl swayed, barely even focusing on it as she put her arms around his neck. He carried her through the transport, one arm supporting her weight, another holding on as the transport started to lift off, dropping the bundle of clothes on the floor. She was soon asleep again. 

“Sir?” Rex was rarely nervous around him. Perhaps he could sense the tension between Anakin and Obi Wan. “What happened?” His eyes flicked between the two of them. Anakin pressed his lips together in a hard line. 

“Culture clash,” Anakin said, trying to keep his anger out of his voice. “Teacher Kenobi just witnessed something he thought he had a say in.” Obi Wan turned to look at him with wide eyes, as did Rex. He thought over what he had said, wondering what was so odd about it. “What?” 

“We aren’t on Tatooine anymore,” Obi Wan said. “You called me ‘Teacher’.” Anakin winced. 

“Right.” The ship jolted as it left the atmosphere. Ahsoka stirred and mumbled something against his collarbone. A moment later she was fast asleep again. “Sorry. I forget, sometimes. It’s Master in Basic.” 

“You forget?” Obi Wan seemed surprised. “You never had a problem before.” Anakin almost snorted at that, instead levelling his master with a flat look. 

“Basic is my third language,” he said slowly. “My first has several words for what the Jedi Temple uses ‘Master’ for. Padme had to explain to me why you called Qui Gon Jinn ‘Master’.” Which... had not been a pleasant conversation. Let alone when trying to explain that it wasn’t _sand_ per se that he hated, but _bishin***_ the sharp coarse sand of the Desert, whipped into a raging storm by Mortea’s anger. “I have to translate Basic from Huttese, which has far less nuance.” Obi Wan stared. Rex pursed his lips. 

“Sounds complicated, sir.” Anakin couldn’t help the tired laugh that elicited. It had been a long, strange day. And, honestly, he wanted to crawl into his bunk and sleep for a week. Maybe comm Padme and talk about a potential plan to free poor little Neira. 

If only. 

Obi Wan was quiet the rest of the trip back to the Starship. Anakin didn’t mind- he wasn’t sure how to tell Obi Wan that Amatakka _really_ didn’t translate well into Basic, how he still struggled to read Basic and sometimes wrote in the swirls and lines of Amatakka, before having to translate. How sometimes, he couldn’t get the words right and had to ask Padme to check his reports. How the Masters of his lessons as a Padawan had berated him for his poor language skills, stating that illiteracy was not an excuse for using Huttese in place of Basic. 

Once the transport docked, Anakin strode out first, careful not to jostle Ahsoka too much. The girl needed her rest, having been running on adrenaline the last few hours. He had felt it down their very new and tentative training bond. Anakin instinctively wrapped her in warm protection within the Force, wishing sweet dreams for her. 

She would have few enough of those the longer this dragged on. 

Obi Wan dogged his steps as he headed to their private rooms, no space as yet designated for Ahsoka. That was fine- Anakin had shared a sleeping pallet with his Mother for years, still sometimes crawled into Obi-Wan's bed. The man seemed rather bemused by what the Core-worlder considered a childish habit. 

Slaves were never children. They huddled together for warmth and comfort and a moment to forget their bruises and hurts. Anakin only went when he couldn’t sleep, and Padme was unavailable. 

“Anakin...” Obi Wan started as they reached his quarters. He paused as Anakin laid Ahsoka on the bed as gently as he could. The man had gathered up Anakin’s clothes for him. “I’m sorry, if I have caused you offence. I... did not realise.” It was the most awkward Anakin had ever seen the man. 

“You did.” Anakin didn’t want to explain. But he had also promised to make him understand. “We have a story, on Tatooine. Among the slaves. Of the Goddess Mortea, and her Gift of the Desert to those unable to bring themselves to rest. It is... a last resort. If there is no other way.” Iside had been frail, weak, unable to walk. Her only use, providing for the children and even that she had struggled with. Jabba would have killed her himself not long after they left. 

She had been so _happy_ to see him. It made him want to cry. 

“But why you?” Obi Wan asked, sorrowful. “Why did they not do it themselves?” 

“Because I am Ekkretha,” Anakin said, simple as breathing. “I am of the line of Ekkreth, the Trickster, He-Who-Makes-Free.” He swallowed. “Because I am descended of the Goddess, it is seen as a great honour to be offered the Gift from us.” _Because, even among the slaves, I_ _was seen as_ _special, born in the last rains before the Great Drought._

Obi Wan stood in stunned silence. Anakin could feel him, a maelstrom of confusion and sadness, behind him, wanting to reach out but unsure how. Unsure of things he couldn’t understand. 

“I don’t think I understand,” Obi Wan said in a small voice. “But... please, Anakin. Tell me, if there are more... misunderstandings.” _If I have_ _insulted_ _you more than I thought_ was screamed in the silence. Anakin nodded, not daring to turn around. 

“I’m tired,” he said bluntly. “I’d like to sleep before our next mission.” Obi Wan took the hint and left. 

* * *

Obi Wan found himself going through the motions as he reported back to the Council, dissociated from everything around him. If he thought too hard, he would start thinking about how much he had failed Anakin. He would start wondering how many times over the years Anakin had forced himself to silence about an unknown slight. 

How often the Padawan he had raised had not known what was said. 

_Third language_ Anakin had said. Basic was his _third_ language. Obi Wan knew his former Padawan was good at them- he had insisted on learning Naboo’s native tongue even before they had had to leave Naboo for Coruscant at age nine. Once he had mastered that, he moved on to Corellian, Ryl, Wookie. He even understood _Binary_ , a feat very few had accomplished, just so he could talk with R2. But that Anakin had known three languages as a child, before they had even met, and that Basic was his least practiced, had not occurred to him. 

That the slaves of Tatooine had their own developed culture, complete with its own language, religion and rituals had been completely lost on him. How idiotic and small minded he had been, to think that it was simply _frustration_ affecting his Padawan at certain times of each year, or after a particularly gruelling lesson. He remembered the doodled swirls on his Padawan’s notes and wondered now if they were actually something more. 

He and the Council would be having _words_ when they returned to Coruscant. 

“Master Kenobi,” Shaak Ti asked suddenly. Obi Wan blinked, jumping out of his reverie. “Is everything alright? You seem... preoccupied.” 

Obi Wan didn’t know how to answer. Windu was frowning. 

“Is it Skywalker?” the man asked, a heavy disapproval ringing through the Force. “What has he done now?” 

“Nothing,” Obi Wan stated, angry suddenly that the man _assumed_ that Anakin was the fault of his distraction. “No, I... have realised that I have been incredibly culturally insensitive to him.” There was a pause among the Council members, almost visible questions on their faces. 

“I wasn’t aware Skywalker followed the Hutts’ religion,” Ki Adi Mundi said carefully. By _religion_ Mundi meant _Bounty Hunting_. Or perhaps _money_. The Hutts didn’t care for much else. 

“No, not the Hutts.” Obi Wan paused, clenching his fists. “After our business with the Hutts were concluded, one of Jabba’s slaves offered us a place to rest during a sandstorm.” It wasn’t the truth, but the Council would understand even less than he what Anakin had done. At first, he had been horrified. Now, he understood that Anakin believed he had offered the woman _mercy_. A relic of the violent world he had grown up in. “I saw... I witnessed their culture. Their... way of life.” _How little they have. How little Anakin had the moment he was born._

_“_ Oh,” Shaak Ti said, her eyes sad. Her people, too, had a history of enslavement. “I see. And you think it has had an effect on his training?” 

“I think,” Obi Wan started carefully, “that I, and all of us, have misunderstood a lot about Anakin. He let me know today that Basic is, in fact, his third language and in order to understand it, he must translate it through Huttese.” This appeared to shock the Council to silence. 

“His _third_ language?” Windu sounded as if he didn’t believe it. “What would be the first?” 

“Amatakka, most likely,” Plo Koon chipped in, the first words he had spoken since the meeting began. “The language of the slaves of Tatooine.” Obi Wan blinked, as did Windu and Shaak Ti. Plo did not elaborate. 

Obi Wan was not the first to briefly leave the Order. His foray into life with Satine was probably the briefest in the history of the Jedi Order. Plo Koon, too, had mysteriously extended a mission or two. He didn’t explain why, but most knew it meant he had left the Code behind for a while. But he had not done so for many years now, since before even Obi Wan was a padawan. 

“You know it?” Obi Wan asked. Plo Koon shook his head. 

“I have been honoured to hear it spoken. But no, I do not speak it. Just simply know of it.” Silence descended again. Even Windu looked awkward now, unsure of how to make amends to this. “Master Kenobi,” Koon added, suddenly, after a minuet or two of silence, “be assured. The culture of slaves, especially those under the Hutts, is based upon secrecy. If Skywalker has decided to open up to you, be patient and as understanding as you can. It is a sign of his trust in you, to share it so.” Obi Wan nodded numbly, the rest of the meeting washing over him. 

He caught enough to know they had been called back to the Temple. The Council wished to discuss this new development with Anakin. 

When the call was over, Obi Wan crumpled where he stood and sobbed. The Clones froze in shock, unsure what to do. Neither did Obi Wan. 

* * *

Ahsoka woke, warm and comfortable, and entirely not in the Temple. Nor was she in the uncomfortable cot on the cruiser which had brought her to Christophsis. Nor, it had to be said, was she alone. 

Ahsoka had never shared a bed with anyone else. Not even within the Creche because the dorms had plenty of other kids in them and privacy was just not a thing. Attachment was forbidden and climbing into another’s bed was a symbol of that. She might have tried a couple of times when she first arrived, but not for a long time, or even that she could remember. 

So, it was something of a surprise to wake to find Anakin curled around her, sleeping peacefully, entrapped in a cocoon of warmth within the Force. She blinked, surprised and not at all uncomfortable. _Is this what it feels like to have a family_? She wondered. Then berated herself for such thoughts. The Temple held her family- Anakin was but a small part of it. She shouldn’t be attached to him so quickly. But... 

Anakin may not have been immediately on board to be her Master, and she somewhat understood now. But he had made sure she was safe and cared for, as much as he could in battle and even condoned her bragging after saving him on Christophsis, which had not been the most Jedi thing to have done. He had allowed her to witness the death of the woman on Tatooine, had trusted her with Rotta, had believed she would make it while he distracted Dooku. He had shown her so much faith in the space of two days. 

_Two days... is that all it has been?_ It felt so much longer than that. She wasn’t sure she wanted to leave the bed, or Anakin’s embrace. So, selfishly, she snuggled in a little closer, delighted to find that not only was he warm, but even in sleep he adjusted to her new position, careful enough not to smother her montrals. She grinned in satisfaction, letting her eyes flutter close. This close, she could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady and _alive_ , his Force presence bright beside her, so full of life and love. 

She found that she never wanted to leave, not this bed, nor this new part of her life, nor _him_. He was her family now. 

The door slid open and she sensed Master Kenobi enter. It made her freeze, aware now of the position they were in. Two Jedi, her a minor, hugging each other on a cot barely big enough for Master Skywalker. She gulped, squeezing her eyes closed ever more, knowing that the man was stringent in regard to the Code, in a way Plo Koon and Anakin weren’t. She really didn’t want a scolding right now. 

Through slitted eyes, she watched as Master Kenobi brushed a hand over Anakin’s head, hands carding through his hair. He briefly checked Ahsoka too, she snapping her eyes shut quick. He missed the flutter of her lashes, probably assuming she was dreaming and had accidentally ended up in this position in her sleep. She opened them again as she heard the rustle of fabric. 

Master Kenobi had slid to the floor, lying there with a pillow he had filched from the ones Anakin must have chucked on the floor. He lay down and promptly went to sleep, close by and in the way of the door entirely. In the way of them _leaving_ too. 

She couldn’t help but stare. 

Anakin shifted in his sleep, tugging her back down. “Back to sleep Snips,” he murmured, words slurred and heavily accented with a Tatooine twang. It was barely there normally, his tone an imitation of Obi Wan’s Coruscanti accent. She wondered if that were deliberate, allowing him to tuck her back under his chin. He was soon asleep again. 

She closed her eyes too. Might as well get all the rest she could, if all her Masters were going to do was sleep anyway. Anakin was confusing enough asleep; she was going to need all the brainpower she could get when he woke in the morning cycle. 

* * *

“We have been ordered to return to the Temple.” Anakin blinked sleepily at Obi Wan over the rim of his mug of caf. It was his second or third- he wasn’t sure, couldn’t quite remember how many times he had poured from the pot. He knew it was more than twice: Rex only gave him _that_ look when he thought his commanding officer was drinking too much caffeine than was good for him. But Anakin had been awake for three days straight and six hours sleep was not enough to recover from that. 

Ahsoka was nursing her own beside him. They had woken to find Obi Wan asleep on the floor, which had surprised his padawan and left Anakin in some bemusement. It was rare, but not unheard of, for Obi Wan to sleep in the same room voluntarily sometimes, but Anakin would be the one to drag him onto the bed if he were awake when the man stumbled in. It had happened a couple of times, but Obi Wan never asked. 

For some reason, he seemed to think that it was inappropriate for him to share a bed with Anakin after he turned thirteen, even if he never turned Anakin away from climbing into _his_ bed. 

“What?” Anakin asked, mind trying to work out what had just been said. This was why he didn’t do little sleep- it made understanding Basic all the harder. 

“We are returning to Coruscant,” Obi Wan repeated, sliding into the seat opposite. He, too, had dark circles under his eyes. “The Council wish to speak to you.” _That_ woke him up. 

“About what?” he asked sharply. He had washed his new tattoos with pride, cared for them as Villes told him and wrapped them carefully before dressing. He looked like a Jedi again. What could they have to complain about _now_? 

“Nothing terrible,” Obi Wan said consolingly. “They... wish to clarify some things in regard to your upbringing.” Anakin narrowed his eyes. 

“You told them,” he said bluntly. 

“Not everything,” Obi Wan admitted. “But I had to tell them something. I said nothing of the... Gift you gave.” He stumbled over the wording, as if trying to use the same words but not with the same meaning as Anakin had. He appreciated the effort all the same. “I told them we were offered lodging overnight due to a sandstorm. Rex and Cody have agreed to corroborate if asked.” Anakin blinked, wondering when the man had had the time. 

“Oh.” He paused to take a drink of his now lukewarm caf. Perhaps it _was_ only his third cup. Ahsoka was staring at Obi Wan with wide eyes. 

“You _lied_ to the Council?” She sounded almost scandalised. But... not disappointed. 

“I told them the truth. From a certain point of view.” Anakin rolled his eyes. _Oh, that old gem_ he thought. Obi Wan’s favourite excuse to lie to people to their face. It was funny when you weren’t on the wrong end of it. 

“So, what do they want to clarify?” Anakin asked, taking another gulp of caf. He certainly hadn’t had enough for _this_ conversation. “And why now?” 

“Nothing much. What accommodations would need to be made for your... unique circumstances.” Anakin blinked, feeling a brush of guilt from his old master. In the light of the new day, he was admittedly less angry with Obi Wan. The man didn’t deliberately try to offend him, but the old resentment was always there. 

Was it possible that Obi Wan had realised a lot less than he thought? 

“Huh?” He sent confusion down the old link. Ahsoka, too, looked a little confused. Obi Wan shrugged. 

“It would depend. Master Mundi has been accommodated within the Order due to his species having a low breeding rate: the Council allowed him four wives to aid in increasing his people’s population.” Anakin choked on his drink, as did Ahsoka. Rex exchanged money with Cody in the background, looking distinctly unhappy. “Quinlan has Fallen in the past. He was allowed to return after proving he had left the Dark behind.” 

“That’s not really an exception,” Anakin said numbly, wondering. _Would I still have to hide my marriage? But if so, what strings come with it?_ Because there were always strings. Slaves learned that early in life- even his freedom came with the string that his mother would be left behind. 

“It is an example,” Obi Wan said gently. “It will be discussed when we reach Coruscant.” Anakin just nodded, wondering. 

He rose to get another cup of caf. He needed it for the ensuing headache. Rex gave him a glare, standing in front of the caf machine. 

“I think you’ve had enough sir,” he said firmly. Anakin glared right back at him. “Your hands are shaking from the five you’ve had already.” 

“I haven’t had _five_ ,” Anakin squawked, trying to think. Now that he concentrated, he noticed that his hands were, indeed, shaking from excess caffeine and he had excess energy now. Well, better more than feeling like a walking zombie. He set the cup to the side either way. “Fine. I’m off to train. Ahsoka, lets see what you’ve got.” Ahsoka blinked at him, perking up. 

“Really?” She sounded as if she couldn’t believe that he was taking an interest. 

“I need to see where your skills are at,” he said, offering her a grin. _And if you might be suited to another_ _lightsaber_ _. Once you’ve grown a bit_ he thought as she jumped excitedly to her feet. Honestly, she was as small as Neira. 

Thinking of Neira made his good mood leave almost immediately, watching as Ahsoka rushed out of the mess hall to get her lightsaber. Anakin’s heart sank, remembering how he just had to _leave_ her there. Her and Villes and the other girl, Annushka. One thirteen, one sixteen, one fourty. And the many, many others within the Quarters. 

He jumped at Obi Wan’s touch. He squeezed Anakin’s shoulder, eyes sad. 

“You were thinking of them, weren’t you?” he asked quietly. He was strangely quiet about what he had witnessed yesterday, this morning. Almost suspiciously so. 

“Yes,” Anakin said, seeing no point to denying it. “Neira, she was... she’s Ahsoka’s age.” _She doesn’t deserve to be Jabba’s slave. Especially not one of his dancing slaves._ It made Anakin sick to his stomach to think of what the slug asked of her. 

Obi Wan jolted and Anakin realised his shields had been down and projecting that _very loudly_ in the Force. 

“Anakin...?” Obi Wan breathed. He flinched. 

“I was lucky. We left the Hutts when I was six, remember? But Mum...” he swallowed and shoved down memories he would rather forget. “I was never naïve enough to believe the Force conceived me.” It was Obi Wan’s turn to flinch. 

“I see.” He said nothing more, merely gave Anakin’s shoulder another squeeze and allowed him to leave. 

He tried not to see Rex’s horrified face as he fled the mess hall. 

* * *

Coruscant had always looked beautiful to Obi Wan, once upon a time. It was home, it was the place to return to, where peace was. Now, it was clear how rotten it was at its core, hardly needing to pull back the layers to see the cracks in people’s masks. 

Nothing could look beautiful after hearing Anakin’s thoughts regarding that poor girl. 

_We left her there_ , he thought, feeling sick himself. _I insisted we leave them behind. Don’t make a vacuum here Anakin, I told him. How stupid I was._ A power vacuum would seem a boon to the slaves of Tatooine no doubt, a chance for a better life or someone more pleasant. Or perhaps they would give their children the _Gift_. He shuddered at all the uncertainties, the Force ringing with Anakin’s sorrow and disquiet as they approached the planet and the Temple. 

Anakin had been very loud today in the Force. Had been loud since Tatooine. His old padawan couldn’t help it, really. His home planet had shaken him in ways Obi Wan hadn’t seen before, and his shields were practically non-existent, leaking emotion all over the ship for two days and giving them all a headache. Poor Ahsoka didn’t quite know what to do with them. He had tried explaining it to her, tried to describe the deep terrifying power Anakin held in his hands and yet used the barest minimum. 

Tried not to think of the many, many destroyed training rooms while he had been practicing control. 

Anakin’s potential was another point of contention to the Council, but Obi Wan could hardly fault him for that. Anakin did not actively _try_ to scare them, but despite his blatant belief that he _hadn’t_ been conceived by the Force (which... well, Obi Wan could understand that now), his midiclorian count and sheer presence spoke differently. Even if his Father _wasn’t_ the living Force, no doubt the man in question was powerful in his own right. 

Speaking of Anakin, he was practically vibrating with energy beside him, still leaking emotions into the Force, but not quite as badly as he had been during the rest of the journey. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be here too long- Obi Wan was returning to Tatooine to free those people, if it was the last thing he did, Council approval or not. But first, they wished to know how much they had missed. What values Anakin held that they had been trampling all over for over ten years. 

“You need to stop projecting so loudly, Master,” Anakin said, pronouns back to being Jedi perfect. Obi Wan decided he hated it. When Anakin first came to him, he hadn’t insisted the boy call him that, asked him to call him whatever he preferred. Mostly, Anakin called him by his name, sometimes Teacher, sometimes pashar. But, over time, the other Masters had insisted on formality and Obi Wan had thought he had simply understood that it meant the same thing as all the others. 

It was an assumption he ought never to have made. 

“You are one to talk,” he scoffed good-naturedly. He offered a smile and a nudge. Anakin valiantly tried to tone his feelings down to normal levels and failed spectacularly. Ahsoka blinked a couple of times. 

“You’re giving me a headache,” she dared complain. She had been doing that a lot more lately, realising that Anakin wasn’t about to pounce on her to act like a proper padawan. Anakin grimaced, ducking his head. 

“Sorry, Snips,” he said apologetically. “Can’t help it.” Ahsoka gave him a bright smile. 

“I know. But I thought I’d let you know, since you told me to.” Technically, Obi Wan had first informed Anakin of his effect on the girl- well, the ones concerning the Force, because they just seemed to gravitate together in ways Obi Wan could not quite comprehend- and his former padawan had gone straight to Ahsoka. They had agreed to a compromise of some sort, which seemed... well, this was quite possibly the most level-headed he had seen Anakin. Which was somewhat alarming. 

The Force twinged again, another shudder going through it. It had been doing that a lot lately, ever since Neira. He wasn’t sure what the girl had triggered, but she had changed the future somehow. Changed it in a big way- whether that was good or bad, he didn’t know yet. No one did. 

“I don’t know what realisation you just had this time, Teacher, but could you stop?” Anakin complained, switching nouns again. Obi Wan didn’t bring attention to it this time. He decided he preferred Teacher to Master anyway. He gave Anakin a quizzical look as the transport settled onto the landing bay. Anakin gave him a little frown. “The Force keeps smacking me over the head every time you do.” 

“Perhaps you ought to tell it to send it this way,” Obi Wan commented mildly. “I think I need a few.” Anakin’s eyes softened even as his face settled into the blank mask he used around the Council. He was embraced in a wave of warmth and calm, all of which sang _Anakin_. He smiled. “Thank you,” was all he said out loud. Ahsoka hopped out of the transport, stretching like a cat. 

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” she said brightly. “Bit weird, but I’ve heard people say active missions on the front are worse.” 

“Usually they are,” Anakin said, following her. For a moment he glanced in the direction of the Senate. Obi Wan wondered if he and Amidala thought they were subtle. “And longer.” Ahsoka frowned, wrinkling her nose. 

“You mean I’d have to spend longer in a cramped hard cot?” Anakin blinked at her. 

“What’s wrong with the cots?” Even Rex winced at that. 

“My back would disagree with you,” Obi Wan said, attempting not to draw attention to the faux pas. He shared a look with Ahsoka, whose realisation clicked in the Force and she ducked her head slightly in shame. No doubt she meant no offense, but Obi Wan still vividly remembered the little boy who had stared at his Padawan bed in awe, bouncing on a mattress that most would have called ‘adequate’ and thought it luxury. 

The military cots were probably still better than whatever Gardulla or Watto provided as sleeping material. 

“Eh, you’re always complaining about your back, old man,” Anakin brushed off. Obi Wan cuffed him round the back of the head as they made their way into the Temple. 

“And yet, it was this old man that bailed you out of trouble three times this mission,” he teased. Anakin poked his tongue out at him as Ahsoka giggled. It was good to hear her laugh, to see Anakin so happy when only a couple of days ago he seemed dragged under by the pressure of so many different prophecies and legacies. 

_Because I am_ _Ekkretha_ _,_ Anakin had said, as easy as breathing, as if this were fact and something to be revered. And for him, it had, where Obi Wan thought it nothing more than a name, much like his own. He hadn’t even known that Anakin’s name had a _meaning_ behind it. Obi Wan had never been much interested in the root meaning of names, nor of his own. That Anakin took such stock in them, that he went out of his way to ask an old woman her name before ending her life, had been something of a metaphorical slap to the face. 

He would try to ask about it more. If Anakin would tell him. 

The Council were sat, stiff and cold, in their chairs. For a moment, Obi Wan considered going to his seat. Instead, he stood with Anakin, a firm presence and shields thrown wide open down their bond. In he concentrated, he could even feel Ahsoka _through_ Anakin. Anakin gave him a mental nudge with the Force in gratitude. 

“Knight Skywalker,” Windu started, sounding disappointed _still_ . “Master Kenobi tells us there has been some... dissonance between your culture and that of the Jedi Order.” _Dissonance_ was one word for it. Obi Wan felt a childish urge to slap the Jedi Master around the head himself. 

Anakin stiffened next to him. 

Plo Koon had stated the nature of Anakin’s childhood culture was secrecy. Obi Wan had realised just _how much_ that was true over the last couple of days. The likelihood that he would explain everything to _Windu_ of all people was incredibly low. Thankfully, the other Masters seemed less inclined to grill Anakin over it. 

“What Master Windu means to say,” Shaak Ti started, before Windu could open his mouth to insert his foot again, “is that we are have now been made aware that certain allowances need to be made to accommodate your home culture. It is not in the way of the Jedi to discourage its initiates from participating in the religions and beliefs of their native peoples.” Anakin gave her a suspicious look. 

“The culture I grew up in would seem the antithesis of the Jedi Code,” he said flatly. “Considering the basis of our beliefs relies heavily in connections and attachments to others.” Shaak Ti nodded gracefully, not recoiling like Mundi or Windu. 

“Realise this, we should have,” Yoda said sadly from his seat. The tiny Grand Master had been silent on the issue for the time being. “At your first appearance here.” Windu scowled all the harder at that. Anakin cocked his head almost in curiosity. 

Obi Wan felt much the same. 

He hadn’t been present for Anakin’s first meeting with the Council. The boy had been sent in alone while he, admittedly, had stood outside and complained to Qui Gon about taking in a stray. It filled him with shame to think of the entitled idiot he had been then, so desperate to cling to the only Master who had taken him on as a Padawan. How stupid he had been to be jealous of a _slave child_ , who had known nothing but violence his whole life. 

He had never spoken of those feelings to Anakin, too ashamed of himself to let him know he had once felt that way. 

“Attachment is forbidden by the Jedi Code,” Master Windu argued stubbornly. “It is a path to the Dark Side.” Anakin’s fists tightened at his side. Obi Wan rested a hand on his wrist, sending his support down their bond, feeling the flash of anger and hurt from Anakin. Ahsoka looked mildly horrified by what she was witnessing. 

“I understand,” Anakin ground out. Obi Wan frowned. This was unacceptable. 

“No,” he stated out loud. Anakin jumped, as did half the Council. “No, you shouldn’t _have_ to.” He was being openly stared at now, a couple of the Masters even openly gaping at him. “Master Windu, for us, perhaps, it is easier to stick to the Jedi Code, but we did not come here to discuss how to dismiss Anakin’s culture. I believe that is, in fact, the _opposite_ of what we discussed.” Windu closed his mouth, seething in silence as Shaak Ti, Plo Koon, Kit Fisto and even Ki Adi Mundi nodded in agreement. 

“I am with Master Kenobi,” Shaak Ti said. “If attachment is the basis of Knight Skywalker’s culture, the question is not how to prevent it, but how to accommodate that within the Order.” Anakin was staring at her again, although thankfully less suspiciously. 

“How?” he asked rather faintly. It was probably shocking considering all he had been taught so far. Even a couple of the more stringent Masters who clearly agreed with Master Windu were looking uncomfortably scandalised by the suggestion. Shaak Ti nodded. 

“Yes, Knight Skywalker,” she said gently. “While we as Jedi do not celebrate our own holidays, we honour the ones offered under the cultures and beliefs of those who choose to follow their respective cultures. Are there any we should be aware of for you? People you would be required to see, family to reconnect with? The Council is aware of your mother, but perhaps others as well?” She was kind regarding it, but Obi Wan felt a deep well of grief from his student. 

He had a bad feeling about his next words. 

“My mother is dead.” The Council sat in silent disbelief, frozen in shock at the words Anakin blurted out. The hurt and grief was apparent to them all, even without the Force. “But, um... there is someone...” He stumbled through the words, fiddling with his prosthetic. Obi Wan laid a hand on his shoulder, offering what support he could. “And we celebrate nothing that would interfere with the war effort...” He seemed unsure of what to say. 

“We are not worried right now about your contribution to the war effort, young Skywalker,” Plo Koon said, tone soothing. “It is a basic right within our ranks for you to celebrate your beliefs. No strings attached for that.” Obi Wan wasn’t entirely sure what Master Koon meant about that, but it meant something to Anakin, who relaxed a minute fraction. It helped, most likely, that Plo Koon was the one to have found Ahsoka. Which... had been yet one of the _many_ enlightening conversations from the two-day journey back to Coruscant. 

“And those that do?” This was asked slightly sharper. Windu looked set to argue. He was shot a dark look by Yoda. 

“Explain in time, you may, further conditions and concessions. Clear, we wish to be, for the future of your time with us. Concessions, we have made in the past, and can make again.” Yoda paused, sending a pointed look to Windu who leaned back not quite appeased, but certainly not happy either. Like Obi Wan, Windu had never much bothered looking into the home culture of his people. “Any other relationships, need we know about?” It wasn’t quite probing- Yoda seemed amused. Obi Wan supposed he wasn’t the only one to know about Anakin’s fondness for the Senator. 

He had enough decency to flush. 

“Um...” He was stiff under Obi Wan’s hand again. He squeezed, reassuring flowing down their bind. _I can’t_ Anakin sent down the bond. _I... Not out loud, not here, not now._ Obi Wan gave him a mental nod. 

_Not now,_ he sent back. _Not if it makes you uncomfortable_. Anakin shuffled his feet and didn’t answer the Council out loud. Not that they would need to. 

“Knight Skywalker, you, Master Kenobi and your Padawan will be sent with Senator Amidala back to Tatooine,” Plo Koon stated, just as amused as Yoda. Anakin ducked his head, trying not to look too pleased. “As Jabba is now working as part of the Republic, it will be part of your job to ensure that those who work under him have the same rights as Republic workers.” _That_ elicited a bigger reaction. The Force trembled in the wake of the blossoming hope and disbelief within Anakin. 

“... Jabba has no workers.” Anakin didn’t seem to quite know what to say. Windu made a face and Obi Wan realised that this might be a case of Anakin’s language barrier working against him. 

_Anakin, they will be free,_ Obi Wan whispered through the Force. Anakin shivered beneath his hand. 

_I know. I mean... he doesn’t have... what’s the word for people who are paid?_

_Employees_. Anakin blinked outwardly. Obi Wan felt his heart constrict, touched at the trust Anakin had shown him in admitting his trouble. 

“Jabba has workers,” Windu snapped. “Don’t be obtuse. Those dancers aren’t nothing.” 

The window behind Mace Windu cracked as if someone had just blasted it. The Council jumped and Obi Wan caught an image of Neira again, dressed in the pathetic wisps Jabba called clothes. He winced. 

“The dancers are not employees,” Obi Wan corrected the Jedi Master. “I don’t think anyone other than the Bounty Hunters and warlords are employees of the Hutts there.” Windu closed his mouth with a snap, thankfully keeping quiet. 

Anakin stormed out of the Council Room at the barest nudge for him to remove himself from the situation, quickly. Ahsoka looked torn between following her new Master and staying here. Obi Wan transferred his hand to her shoulders, trying to comfort her. He cleared his throat in the wake of Anakin’s sudden absence. 

“I have a request for the Council, in terms of Padawan Tano’s training,” he said into the silence, not letting them recover just yet. Yoda inclined his head. “I request that Padawan Tano be allowed to refer to Anakin as Teacher rather than Master.” The girl didn’t nod but he could feel her agreement either way. “In light of Basic being Anakin’s third language and our stationing on Tatooine, the term may be inappropriate.” There were guilty twitches around the room. 

“Acceptable, this is,” Yoda said gravely. “Granted, is your request, Master Kenobi.” Obi Wan nodded. “Go now, Padawan Tano, you may. Follow your Teacher, to the training rooms, hmm?” Ahsoka nodded quickly. 

“Try the private salles,” Obi Wan whispered as she turned. “Anakin rarely trains in the communal halls.” She nodded, a flash of gratefulness sent his way. 

Once she was gone, he settled stern eyes on the Council. 

“Now,” he started, “I believe we have much more to talk about.” It was gratifying to see Windu shrink under his glare. 

* * *

It had been two weeks since Neira had seen Anakin and his friends. She was sad that he wouldn’t be coming back most like, but happy that he had brought relief to Iside. It was still strange to think of her with her name, her missing presence still awkward. No one mentioned it out loud, however. Babushka was now Villes, and that was how she would be known now. Iside Windchaser was now another name to carve into a japur snippet and wear upon their remembrance cords. 

Jabba was restless, irritated that he had to deal with Zero after the disaster of the kidnapping of Rotta. The little slug was happy to be home, rolling in the sand and forcing Neira and Annushka to clean him every day. She far preferred that duty to her usual ones, though. 

In a way, Ekkretha’s presence had had a positive impact. Jabba was now working with the Republic who frowned on the selling of flesh. Jabba wouldn’t stop, but not he could no longer be so blatant in regard to it. So, she and Annushka, who by Republic standards was still too young to be part of his official dancing troupe, got other jobs for a while. When their scrutiny died down, they would be sent back into the main rooms and Dark corners, but for now, life was good. 

She wasn’t expecting Ekkretha to duck back into their Quarters. 

He was dressed in the garb of the Desert, roughspun cottons and headscarf to pull over his face in case Mortea’s rage rose the Desert to smother Depur and his people. He led a young woman by the hand, dressed in the plain dress of a poor peasant woman, but her walk gave away her position in society. She was very pretty though, with bright hazel eyes and thick brown curls, glancing around her with sad eyes. Not pitying, though, but sad and fierce. The eyes of a fighter, Villes called them. 

The togruta girl Ahsoka followed, along with Obi Wan Kenobi. The man had swapped his clothes too for the Desert, the togruta girl covered up better. Neira had wondered how she survived the blistering heat of the Twins during the day in nothing but a bra wrap. She seemed pleased to see Neira again. 

“Ekkretha?” Annushka whispered, eyes wide. She was just as surprised as Neira to see him. Anakin offered them a smile and slid something out of his tunic. 

“I promised Neira,” he said. “By Lukka and Leia.” 

Neira had never been so ecstatic to see a piece of machinery in her life. 

**Author's Note:**

> *Teacher, familial connection. Usually used for a parental figure teaching a child.  
> **Gilders, those who exchange physical chains for marital chains in the guise of freedom.  
> ***Coarse Desert Sand, usually found in sandstorms.


End file.
